


Recovery

by PhoenixSavant



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Another Story (Mystic Messenger), Choi Twin Feels (Mystic Messenger), Choi twin reunion, Rescue, V redeems himself, V's After Ending, Vanderwood is still a god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-31 22:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18323264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixSavant/pseuds/PhoenixSavant
Summary: I was chatting with SapphiraIce from Tumblr about V's after ending.  After admitting that I felt that Seven was cheated out of being part of saving his brother, this idea hit me.  So, it's all her fault.  Here's Saeran's rescue with Seven in on it.Not sure if this will be a one-off or turn into another series.  We'll see.  There's certainly fertile ground to write more, but I'm not sure if it needs more.





	Recovery

                Seven reeled back from the force of the explosion.  He was barely aware of the wave of heat that swept across his skin even as an arm rose protectively to cover his face.  He peered over the black cloth of his hoodie as rubble fell. 

                “No…” he whispered.  “No…”

                The flames rose high, consuming what remained of the rooftop and encompassing the odd, steeple-like extension over the main entrance.  Seven’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.  From some half-forgotten place inside, a scream rose, filling the air around him.  The volume competed with the roaring of the inferno that filled his sight. 

                Twice he tried to approach the building, determined to find the man he suspected would be inside.  Cinders scorched his sleeve before the heat drove him back.  Cursing the instinctive self-preservation within himself, a feeling he didn’t find in his thoughts at all, he fell to his knees, weeping. 

                “Saeran, please, no…”

                He didn’t move as the building burned itself into a pile of ash and rubble.

 

(Two days later)

 

                The phone rang again, and Seven hated that he’d created it to withstand any abuse he could give it.  Throwing it would have felt better if he’d thought it would actually shatter on impact.

                _Why is V calling me?  What can he possibly think he has left to say to me.  I know.  I know he let Saeran die.  He has to know that I figured it out.  If he were smart, he’d just disappear._

He turned up the volume on his headphones, determined to focus on his work.  It wasn’t the work he’d been assigned, but that didn’t matter.  Nothing matter anymore, not really.  Still, before it was done he would see to it that there was penance for the death of his brother. 

                Saeran, the first secret he’d carried among the hundreds of thousands that now rattled through his mind.  The better half of the twins, in his estimation.  His brother had been kinder, gentler than anyone he’d known as a child or since.   To first find that he’d been turned into a hacker, denied the simple joys of a normal life, that had been a heavy enough blow.  Then to lose him when he’d been so close, it was more than the red-haired hacker could endure.  Yes, there would be payment, in full if he had any say.

After another half dozen calls, he finally answered the call.  “What do you want?” he snarled.

                “There’s a chance Saeran is alive.  I’m on the way to pick you up.”

                Seven’s heart froze in his chest.  He looked over his shoulder, making sure that Vanderwood was still in the kitchen.  “What? How?  If he was inside that place, he’s not alive.  I was there.  I saw…”

                “I know what you saw,” V said, cutting him off.  “I also just found out that the room he should have been in was reinforced and may have survived the explosion.  Get ready.  I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

                The line went dead.  Seven stared at the phone in his hands.  Right now, all he wanted was to beat V hard enough to leave him hospitalized for life.  He hated the man who’d been like a father to him.  He had been betrayed at every turn.

                _A slim chance is better than no chance._

                Deciding that his project to exact revenge for Saeran could wait for a few hours, he scribbled a note for Vanderwood, snuck to his room, and shoved a few items into a backpack and slipped out without his partner detecting his absence.  Outside, he sped along the path to the place he knew V would be waiting.

                V’s car idled under the trees, its driver waiting inside.  Seven took a deep breath, pushing down the desire to take out his rage on the man he’d trusted with the most important part of his life.  Yanking the door open, he flung himself into the front seat and shoved his backpack to the floor.  He didn’t look at V as he pulled the door closed and asked, “What do you mean he’s still alive?  This better not be a trick.  I’ll kill you if it is.”

                He felt he should have been surprised at how dangerous his voice sounded.  The dark, deep tones filled the interior of the vehicle.

                “I talked to Rika.  She told me that the room Saeran would have been in to trigger the explosion was heavily reinforced.  She said it’s possible that he survived.  I don’t know what we’ll find, but I can’t dig him out on my own.  Whether he survived or not, you should be there when…” V’s voice faltered.

                Seven looked over at the blue-haired man.  He was surprised to catch what looked like V wiping a tear away from his face.  “So it was him?  The hacker that attacked the RFA was Saeran?”

                “Yes, it was him.”  V glanced at Seven.  “I’m sorry, more than I have words for.  I was trying to save him, to get him out of there.  It wasn’t supposed to be…”

                “Damn straight it wasn’t supposed to be that way!” Seven growled.  “I don’t want your apologies, V.  In fact, fuck you and your apologies.  The only reason I’m here is because you used Saeran’s name.  If you hadn’t, I’d have told you to go to hell and blocked your calls.”  His fingers curled into tight fists in his lap.  “You’re a liar and a traitor.  I hate you.”  

                _Almost as much as I hate myself._

                “I know.  I don’t blame you.”

                “Shut up and drive.”

                The rest of the trip to Magenta passed in complete silence.  Seven’s mind roared within his skull, so enraged with V that his head ached somewhat by the time they arrived.  His jaw felt as if it had been soldered shut, so fiercely had he been clenching it.

                The car rolled up to the pile of charred rubble where Magenta had stood just as the sun began its descent toward the horizon.  Stepping out of the car and rolling his shoulders, Seven wished he’d been able to pack better.  They’d have to make do with the flashlights he’d brought instead of having the larger lights in his own car.  He wasn’t stopping when night came.  He wasn’t stopping until he held his brother, alive or dead.

                “Where?” he asked V.

                “This way,” V answered, taking a pair of shovels from the trunk and moving swiftly to the rear of the building.  “There’s supposed to be a stairway leading down and the reinforced room is at the bottom.  She said the stairwell was built the same as the room, so it should be standing.  If it isn’t, I have ropes.”  He paused, looking down at the younger man.  “We will find him.”

                Seven responded with a grunt, watching to see where V began digging.   He grabbed the extra shovel and joined in.

                The only thing to alert either man to the passage of time was the lengthening of shadows around them.  They did not pause in their efforts, setting aside the shovels only when they had to work together to move a larger remnant of the building aside.  The ash and soot filled the air, choking them and leaving black streaks cut by trails of sweat. 

                When the sun went down, they tried setting up the flashlights but quickly found that there was no way to position them to keep enough light on the situation to make sufficient progress.  V pulled the car around, bouncing it gently over the scorched flower beds until he could bathe the site beneath the headlights.

                The path to the location of the stairwell opened before them and they worked their way down through three floors of debris, searching for the promised opening. 

Seven had often prayed, his faith in God being his anchor in life, but he’d never prayed like this.  _Anything, my life, my freedom, anything, just let him be alive.  Let me reach him.  Let him be there.  Please don’t show me his body when we get through this.  I’ll give anything, anything…._

The words raced, repeating endlessly, like a summoner’s chant. 

V’s shovel drove through the mess and stopped with a loud clang.  Looking at Seven he pulled it back and slammed it down again, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.  A second impact resounded through the still air and both men turned to scraping away the blackness over the solid space.  Hope gave way to despair as they realized they were standing on a massive block of cement right where the opening to the stairs should have been. 

Seven dragged his shovel around, seeking the edges of the block, his horror growing as he realized that either a floor or a large exterior wall had collapsed on this exact spot.  He hadn’t packed any explosives, and the segment was too large to rope off and pull away.  For the second time, he sunk to his knees at Magenta and screamed into the night.

“You damn fool,” a gruff voice called from the darkness.  “First you run off without telling me, make me track your ass to the middle of nowhere, and now you’re just going to give up?”

Seven’s hand shot to where his gun should have been, but he’d left it in the car.

“Right, because you wouldn’t have been dead two hours ago if I’d wanted it.”  A red spot grew, the light of it briefly illuminating a face before Seven’s partner stepped into the glow of V’s headlights.  He regarded the two men with a look of annoyance and took another drag on his cigarette before dropping it and stamping it out with his toes.  “So, what are you digging up?”

“A person,” V stated.  “At least, we hope it’s a person still.”

“What happened here?  This is one hell of a mess.”

“It was an explosion.”  

Seven tried to signal V to stop talking but was ignored.

“We have reason to believe that someone is trapped under here, in a reinforced room.  We’re trying to get to them.  Are you here to help or get in the way?”

Seven knew he should have been used to V’s way of telling just enough without tipping his hand to anyone, but it startled him to hear anyone speak to Vanderwood in such a challenging tone.

Vanderwood stepped forward, approaching the chunk of concrete that had halted their progress.  He looked around, evaluating the entire situation, noting the unstable piles of burned lumber and crumbling drywall around them.  “If you hadn’t snuck off, you’d have had the right tools for the job.  Didn’t you learn anything from me, agent?” 

He spun on his heel, stalking back out into the darkness.  When he returned, he left one large bag next to V’s car, and the other he carried to where V and Seven continued digging at the edges of the slab. 

“Gotta crack it first, in pieces. We’ll have to take it out a little at a time or it’ll bring the rest of this shit show down on us.”  He mumbled as he pulled wires and a grey putty-like substance from his bag.  “Gotta slice it up like a pie and figure out what’s underneath it.”  After a few minutes, he rose and said to Seven and V, “Get back.  Move that car back, too.  Give it an extra hundred feet.”

While they cleared the area, he set the explosives and ran the ignition wires back.  Connecting them to a small detonator, he looked back and then hunched low to the ground before flipping the switch.  The following series of explosions ran like a daisy chain from the edge of the concrete slab to the center.  Smoke drifted through the air, but it didn’t look as if much had changed.

Seven approached the area, his eyes taking on a fresh light of hope as he saw row after row of deep cracks.  They could move some of these pieces!  They would get through!

Without waiting, he fell on the first crevasse, his fingers scrabbling at the rubble filling it, seeking a way to gain leverage.

Vanderwood groaned and waved for V to join him.  Between the three of them, they managed to finish separating the outermost segment and haul it aside.  They labored through the night, moving the heavy material as they were able, and Vanderwood setting small explosions to break up the pieces that were still too large.

Seven couldn’t recall his body being so tired or sore.  He was finally thankful for the training he’d received from the agency.  He knew he’d never have kept going without it.  His hands were torn and bleeding, as were his arms.  The usually bright gold rings on the shoulder of his hoodie had long since been lost to the black ash he’d been digging through with only one thought.   He’d given up seeing through his glasses, and was glad that he could see well enough to continue without them.  There was no keeping the lenses clear.

He noted that V was working just as hard, just as desperately.  His mentor’s face was pinched with apprehension and determination.  Never once had the photographer complained or stepped aside for a break, though his movements slowed as exhaustion crept through his body.  Seeing how hard he worked left Seven feeling slightly less angry about V’s actions leading to this moment.  It wasn’t as if V wasn’t responsible, but maybe Seven had misjudged his intentions.

Finally, they pried a large, triangular piece clear of the massive cement block and Seven shouted.  “There’s an opening!  It’s right here!  We found it!”

“Keep your mind on what you’re doing,” Vanderwood snapped breathlessly.   “Lift!”

The instant they had lowered the slab to the ground, Seven raced back, checking the opening he’d seen.  He shone his flashlight into the narrow opening.  “Stairs!” he called out.  “I see stairs!”

V raced to Seven’s side, peering into the hole.  “Yes, I see them too!  This has to be it!  There should be a door at the bottom, and the door just beyond that.  Are the walls around the stairs intact, can you see?”

Seven started to lean his head and shoulder into the opening, now out of his mind to get down the stairs.  Vanderwood yanked him back.

“You want to get your skull crushed?” the agent asked.  “Look,” he pointed.  “That entire mess is laying right over the stairwell.   If you move too much around, you’ll bring it all down on yourself.”

Chastised, Seven sat on his heels.  “We have to get down there,” he said helplessly.

“Yeah, I get that.  At least, I hope that’s why we’ve been working ourselves to death all night.”  He knelt, leaning over to look down into the stairwell.  “This wall looks secure but I can’t see the far side.”  He frowned as he evaluated the rest of the chunk they’d been breaking down.  “This is too narrow for any of us.  We need to clear one more piece.”  His eyes narrowed and he drew lines in the air with his fingers before ordering, “Seven, get my bag.  We’re going to set one more round.”

Using the shovel to gouge a small indentation into the cement, Vanderwood set a fresh explosive. When it went off, he’d cracked the block neatly to free a segment just large enough to allow them to step down onto the stairs.

V went first, testing the steps as he moved down into the darkness.  “The walls held,” he announced, relief carrying up to the others as he moved further in, allowing them to follow.

At the end of the stairwell, however, was another mess.  It seemed that several large pieces of flammable material had fallen into the stairs before they were covered.  V groaned and leaned against the wall.

“Got a bucket?” Vanderwood asked.

“No, I don’t.  I didn’t think we’d need one,” V said sorrowfully. 

Vanderwood shook his head.  “I’ll get one.”  He retreated back up the stairwell, returning a few minutes later with the shovels and the promised bucket. Passing the tools to V and Seven, he settled himself on the stairs and lit a cigarette.  “This is your rescue op.  You dig.  I’m going to take a break.”

Seven couldn’t even find one of his usual quips to tease Vanderwood about getting old.  He slammed the blade of the shovel into the upper layers of the debris before him and began filling the bucket.

With V and Seven both digging, Vanderwood’s break was short lived.  He hauled each load to the surface, making countless trips and keeping light on the work until the doorway beyond could be seen.   

Seven turned to V, shaking his head.  The heavy, metal door lay partially open, twisted and scorched, half off its hinges.  The room beyond could barely be seen into.  Seven felt his heart might just lose the ability to break.  The past few days had been such a rollercoaster of extreme emotions.  To have worked so hard, to have finally broken through, only to find…

He put his shoulder against the twisted metal hunk and pushed with all his weight.  Vanderwood joined him and together, they forced it open far enough to slip through.

Stumbling over a blackened board, Seven took the first steps, panning his light around the room.  “Come on,” he whispered.  “Be alive, be alive.”

V followed them into the room and the three men split up, searching the cavernous space.

“The hell was this, anyway?” Vanderwood asked, seeing the bank of monitors with their screens blown apart.

“A programming center,” V answered quickly, saving Seven from having to think of a plausible story.

“Programming center, huh?”  Vanderwood’s tone clarified that he didn’t believe V, but wasn’t going to ask again.

“Here!” V called, dropping his light and grasping at the edge of a tall set of shelves. 

Seven was at his side in a flash, grunting as they righted the shelves, revealing the form of a young man curled into a fetal position. 

A crimson long coat wrapped around the skinny, unmoving frame.  Tattered, lace trimmed sleeves hung limply from the sleeves, matching the white hair that lay in disarray over the pale face and closed eyes. 

“Is he…” Seven asked, suddenly immobilized. 

V knelt, searching the inside of Saeran’s wrist.  His expression began to fall but then he blinked suddenly.  “No, it’s faint, very faint, but he’s alive.  I have a pulse!”

Seven threw himself over his brother’s shoulder.  “Saeran, wake up Saeran.  Please, please, I need you to come home.”  Tears flooded over his face, washing away the accumulated filth of the night. 

“Who is it?” Vanderwood asked softly, kneeling beside V.

V considered his response before replying,  “It’s his twin.”

Vanderwood’s eyes widened in shock.  He watched Seven for a moment, processing this new information.  Sorrow filled his eyes briefly, replaced by fierceness.  He moved forward to take Saeran into his arms.

“No!” Seven shouted.  “No!  Don’t touch him!  You can’t take him!”

“I’m going to take him to the surface so we can figure out how to help him.  I brought my med kit.  Come on Seven, let me carry him for you.  We’ll make sure your brother lives.  We just need to get out of here first.”

Years of trusting one another won out over Seven’s fear that the agency would take Saeran away from him.  Vanderwood could be believed.  Vanderwood would help.  He’d come to help, not to stop them from saving Saeran.  Seven leaned back and watched as his partner lifted his brother’s limp body gently from the ground.

Saeran didn’t stir as he was carried out into the grey, pre-dawn light.  He didn’t moan or make any noise as he was laid out on the grass beside V’s car.  His eyelids didn’t flicker as Vanderwood examined him.

V found a bottle of water and a clean cloth which he used to wipe Saeran’s face clear so they could check for injuries.

Vanderwood cut away the strange clothing, checking each bone for fractures, noting bruises and places where swelling had occurred.

Seven was completely undone.  Helplessly, he held Saeran’s hand, his thumb tracing a repetitive path over his brother’s knuckles.  When he saw the scars and deep gouges he wept wordlessly.  He searched the faces of V and Vanderwood, afraid to ask the question that would determine his fate.

“He’s dehydrated, badly, and his body is in terrible condition, but I think he’ll make it,” Vanderwood finally announced.  “I take it we can’t drop him off at a hospital?”

“No, we can’t,” V confirmed.

“I thought as much.”  He dug into his bag again, producing an IV bag, tubing, and a needle.  “First, hydration.”  He set up the drip, positioning the bag on top of the car to allow gravity to do its work and draw the fluids into Saeran’s bloodstream.  Once it was set, he pulled out a metallic square, unfolding it and laying it over the now naked man. 

He rose, lit a cigarette and leaned against V’s car.  “Seven,” he called.  When there was no response, he barked, with the tone of a drill sergeant, “Agent 707!”

Seven’s head shot up, tear-streaked and filthy, but with alert eyes.

“We need to talk.  I don’t want any bullshit, either.  I’ve gone and gotten myself into god knows what with you.  I want to know why and I want to know what the hell is happening.  Since when did you have a brother?”  His tone was neither cruel nor angry.  If any emotion could have been ascribed, it would have been worry for his partner.

Seven managed a half smile.  “Since a few minutes after I was born.”

V chuckled softly, and Vanderwood shot a scathing look at Seven before laughing. 

“Well, you’ll be alright then, if you’re back to being a smart ass.  Now,” he took a long drag on his cigarette.  “Now, fill me in.”

Seven and V recounted the story of how Seven had come to join the agency, V’s failed attempt to protect Saeran, and Rika’s descent into madness. Vanderwood asked only a few questions about Mint Eye and the RFA as the tale unfolded. 

In the end, Vanderwood shook his head in disbelief.  “So we need to get this kid to someplace safe, then.”  He gave V a critical look.  “You sure you’re able to keep up your end of the deal again?  If I let you take Saeran, you’ll keep him safe?”

“I’ll die trying,” V promised.  “I’ve been at fault for so much…”

“Yeah, yeah, all your fault.  I got that from the story.   Are you done wallowing in your self-pity, or are you going to fuck this up again?  I’m not letting you go anywhere with him if you’re not up to handling shit properly.”

V blinked as if he’d been slapped.  “I will… handle shit,” he said firmly.  “What will you do?”

“Seven, you’re coming back with me.  You have an assignment, and you’re going to finish it.”

Seven shot to his feet, ready to fight.  “No!  I’m not leaving his side!  I don’t care what you threaten…”

“Look here, you selfish brat!” Vanderwood shouted.  “I’ve put my neck out far enough for you lately!  If you don’t finish this job, they’ll be after me, too.  I’m not getting killed, got that?”  He folded his arms across his chest and took a breath.  “I’m not saying you can’t be with your brother.  I’m saying you need to think.  Finish the job.  They always give you time off after one this big.  Use the time and go be with him.  I’ll never tell a soul you have family.  Maybe we can even find a way to get you out, but that won’t work right if you don’t finish your assignment.”

To V, he asked, “Do you have a safe location in mind?”

V nodded.  “I have an apartment in Chittagong.  I can take him there.  I just need to arrange transportation.”  He looked down at Saeran’s slack face.  “You’re sure he’ll survive?”

“Yeah, he needs rest and food.  Looks to me like he got knocked out and then that shelf trapped him.  His injuries are all minor.”  He nodded at Seven.  “Luck must be in their blood.  He should have been dead.  I think that slab falling put out whatever fire was going and kept out the rest of the mess.  The shelf falling on him wasn’t great, but it could have been much worse.”

“Good.  When we get back to an area with a stable signal, I’ll get Jumin to arrange a flight for us.”

“No, that won’t do.  There are enough people involved already.”  Vanderwood pulled a phone from his pocket.  “You owe me for this, Seven,” he said as he made a call.

“Hey Geon… Yeah, it’s me… Look, you said if I ever needed anything…  Yeah, I need to ask if… Right… I need medical transport out of the country for two… Bangladesh… Chittagong… Today…  Oh, you know me, saving lives and protecting the defenseless…  Yeah, I can do that… Thanks… See you then.”

He ended the call and frowned down at Saeran again.  “Alright, 1:30 this afternoon we have to meet a guy.  He’ll have a plane with a nurse ready to go.  You’ll go with Saeran, V.  When they’re gone, you’re coming home and finishing your assignment, Seven.  You do that and I’ll buy your ticket out of here for you.  Deal?”

Seven didn’t want to let V take Saeran anywhere without him, but seeing how far Vanderwood was going to help, his only response was to step over his brother’s legs and hug his partner tightly.  “Thank you, for this, for everything,” he choked.

Vanderwood shrugged Seven away.  “Yeah, whatever.  Just don’t you screw this up.”

They packed up the tools V had brought and Seven dug a clean change of clothing from his bag.  Between them, they dressed Saeran in more normal looking clothing and Vanderwood changed the IV bag.

Seven lifted his brother into the back seat of V’s car, amazed at how small his frame was.  _We’ll get you well again,_ he promised silently.  _We’ll get you healthy and safe.  You’ll never suffer like this again._

That afternoon he watched as the small airplane lifted his brother and V off Korean soil, heading for the safety of V’s secret apartment.  His heart twisted mercilessly in his chest and waves of fear washed through his blood, making it feel as if he’d been dropped into an arctic zone with no coat.  He shivered, trying not to listen as his thoughts screamed that he’d never seen Saeran again.

When they returned to their home, Seven only took long enough to shower before returning to his computers.  He closed out the work he’d been doing instead of his assignment.  Revenge was less important now.  He needed to get to his brother.

For the first time since being assigned to Agent 707, Vanderwood didn’t have to harass him to get his work done.  In fact, he had to forcefully drag the young man away to eat and sleep.  The project that was to take a month was finished in a week, astounding Vanderwood.  He’d known the kid was good, but he had never seen anyone work like that before. 

True to his word, he bought Seven’s ticket as soon as the work was done.   What he didn’t tell him was that he wasn’t turning in the assignment early.  Their bosses didn’t need to know that Seven could work this fast.  They’d expect it every time, and Vanderwood didn’t think there would ever be anything to motivate him so fiercely again.  He dropped Seven at the airport and drove away, carrying secrets he wouldn’t reveal under torture.  “Good luck, kid,” he murmured as he watched the young man enter the terminal.

 

(Chittagong)

 

Seven pressed the buzzer outside the wrought iron gate.  His heart was racing, pounding loudly enough to hear its rhythmic thumping in his ears.  His brother was on the other side of this door, up one more flight of stairs.  Finally, they’d be together again.

“Luciel?” V’s voice crackled from the speaker beside him.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Come on up.  Saeran is sleeping so come in quietly.”

The door buzzed and clicked and Seven was through it in a flash.  Even with his luggage, he vaulted up the stairs two at a time, turning at the second door on his left, as previously instructed.  Before he could knock, the door opened and V greeted him with a warm hug.

“He’s alright?” Seven asked softly.

“Yes, much better.  He’s cleared his system of the elixir and his appetite is returning.   He still sleeps a lot, but he’s becoming more alert.”  V looked away nervously.  “Come in, please, and sit with me. I need to talk to you while he’s asleep.”

“What is it?” Seven asked, instantly on edge.

V gestured to the sitting area of the small apartment.  “First, sit.”

Seven felt his mouth go dry as he occupied the nearest chair.  “What’s wrong?”

“So, I didn’t lie.  Physically speaking, Saeran is doing better.  He is beginning to do better mentally as well, but you need to know a few things about that.”  He drew his fingers through his blue hair slowly, thinking out his next words.  “First, Saeran blames you as much as me, for everything.  He was told that you abandoned him so many times that he believes it to be true.”

“But I didn’t!  I…”

“No, you didn’t, I know.  I’ve been working on getting that across to him.  He knows you’re coming today, but he’s not excited about it.  He has agreed to talk to you, but you need to be prepared for the anger he’s carried against you.  I can’t promise he’ll be ready for you to stay.”

Seven frowned deeply.  He wasn’t sure he could walk away from Saeran now, even at his request.  “Alright,” he said aloud.  “What else?”

“There seems to have been some psychological damage,” V began hesitantly.  “There’s a very angry, very aggressive alter ego that arises.  I have not yet been able to determine what triggers the emergence of this other persona, but if he appears, he may attack you.”  He tilted his head back, revealing a set of finger-print shaped bruises along his neck.  “He’s attacked me twice since we arrived here.”

Had Seven thought his heart broke so many times that night at Magenta that it couldn’t break anymore?  He had been wrong.  He knew that extreme, recurring trauma was required to cause a personality to splinter.  What hells had Saeran lived through that would leave him like that?  How could Rika have mistreated his gentle-hearted brother so?  For a moment he wished he’d followed through with his plans to make her pay. 

Shoving those thoughts aside, he focused on the fact that he was with his brother, far from Rika or the hellish life she’d condemned Saeran to.  They’d get through this together, the way they always should have.

A door opened behind him and Seven heard a soft voice call, “V?  I heard voices.  What’s…”

Seven rose and turned, looking into a face that mirrored his own in every way except for eyes that were now blue instead of gold.  White hair replaced red, and this man wore no glasses, but it was still him, still his brother.  Seven’s eyes misted over and he smiled hopefully. 

“Hello, Saeran.  Sorry I kept you waiting, but I’m here now.  How are you?”


End file.
